


Ships Passing in the Dark

by onpage26



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Flashbacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-16 00:20:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 20,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2248938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onpage26/pseuds/onpage26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benedict Cumberbatch is working with a past co-star, Bridget Marks on his newest film "Worth the Risk". Problem is, they didn't exactly end on pleasant terms.</p><p>Initially told from alternating between past and present.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Interview: The Graham Norton Show

**Author's Note:**

> I know Benedict Cumberbatch is not going to be in "Doctor Strange", this was my fork in the proverbial road for fact vs fict.
> 
> Let me know what you think!

“Benedict you are working with Bridget Marks and Tom Hiddleston again on your newest project.” Graham looks over. Benedict Cumberbatch slouches in his chair, his usual impeccable suit looking a little worse for wear, and even his normally errant curls appeared to be irritated.

“Fucking delight that will be,” Ben snarls and waves his hand dismissively, “Don’t get me wrong, I love the idea of working with Tom again - it’s been ages since “War Horse”; but Bridget, she’s a bit too particular and really not sure of herself.” In reality he was more than dreading working with Bridget, she was a liar and deceived him in the worse way.

Graham, clearly shocked by the sudden outburst; cleared his throat, scrambling to catch his thoughts, “That’s right you did work with Bridget, four years ago now, was it on “Sarah”, about the artificial intelligence and her creator. Bridget did the voice work for Sarah while you played it’s creator, Frank.” Graham starts thinking. Whatever is happening or has happened clearly wasn’t good, if he can’t get Benedict to talk about it; perhaps he can get Bridget. It’s only a little unorthodox, she’s been a stunt driver for several years now and hasn’t had much on screen face time.

Ben looked directly at the camera, as if to challenge it, “Yes, we worked together four years ago. All Bridget Marks is good for is a couple of lines. She’s a one hit wonder who should go back to driving cars.” It was like an out of body experience, he had no control of what he said. He never bad mouthed a co-worker during interviews, especially when it’s pertaining to an upcoming film. But like any good runaway train, he was gaining momentum and until Ben derailed, there was no telling what kind of damage he could do tonight.

“Ah, that’s right Bridget has been doing quite a bit of stunt driving but she’s also had a few bit parts with BBC. Obviously you don’t think highly of her work but as co-workers, how is it working with her?” Graham leaned forward, this just kept getting stranger. He had Benedict on the show countless times and Graham never once saw him act like this.

To work with her? Ben thought back to Paris four years ago and the last time he saw her. Shaking his head as if to wipe the memory away, “On set she was very professional but in a cold sort of way. It was off set that you had to worry about. The wench just had the whole crew by the bollocks.” Could he dig himself any deeper? His mobile was vibrating, no doubt Karon trying to get him to shut up. One week till Rome, then all he had to do was survive three months and the few Interviews that followed. Be a good boy and he could just forget about Bridget Marks.

“Well, we will be right back with Benedict Cumberbatch as he tells us about his latest project, “Doctor Strange”,  hitting theaters this month and his new project, “Worth the Risk” starring himself, Tom Hiddleston, and Bridget Marks.” Graham looks surreptitiously at the camera, hoping it will pan away from the unusually surly Benedict. He quickly thinks about open slots in his show, and makes a mental note to contact Miss. Marks’ people; this will be an interview worth fighting for.

 


	2. Flash back: Somewhere in the London underground, five years ago.

“Can you die already”, Bridget Marks looked up quickly from her book. Already engrossed in the read she missed her tube stop twice, she really didn’t need to add crazy book lady to the list of odd things about her.

“So who are you wishing dead?”

Bridget looked up, she hadn’t realized she was speaking out loud.

A man, tall with striking features, sitting next to her leans over and extends his hand, “Ben, who are you wishing dead?” He was wearing dark wash blue jeans, with a soft heather grey shirt. She knew who exactly who he was, Benedict Cumberbatch. Living and working in London you get to know the who’s who of the upper echelon of the movie industry.

“Oh, um. Hi, Bridget,” she shook his hand, “I’m just wishing this character would die already. He’s been holding on for three books now and I kinda wanted him dead after chapter two in the first book.” Heat flushed her cheeks; thankfully she wasn’t one to get star struck. Bridget had done enough work on “Top Gear” as one of the Stig’s to no longer be affected by celebrities but this was a bit embarrassing.

She resumed reading, not really paying attention to her surroundings. Bridget was tired, she had just wrapped up a stint in Greece for some blockbuster flick and was back to the grindstone at “Top Gear”. As a stunt driver, particularly a female one she wasn’t for want for work, but lately she had been wondering if it was time to branch out. Monica, a dear friend and publicist, told her anytime she wanted to really hit the silver screen she was only a phone call away.

“Is that the new Paige James book?” A younger curvy woman with a charming brunette bob cut leaned forward. Bridget inwardly sighed, if only I had curves instead of legs.

Trying to keep her tone polite, “Yes it is.” Bridget really didn’t like it when people interrupted her while she was reading.

Clearly not taking the hint, “How is it so far? I’ve been dying to get my hands on it.” Bridget looked over the edge of her glasses, out of the corner of her eye she noticed Benedict noticing the young woman. Of course he would notice her, you would have to be dead not to. The woman was curvy in all the right places, by Bridget’s opinion, she had big bright brown eyes that were artfully made up. Her dress clung beautifully to her. Bridget looked down to her own woeful outfit - loose fitting flame retardant trousers and an ill fitting shirt she couldn’t quite decide if it had a chocolate stain or an oil stain on it. Her crazy curly red hair was sticking out at odd ends. Yup, a real looker she was today.

With a sigh she replied, “It’s good, Jonathan is still alive and I’m still waiting if Rachel will figure out if Colin lied to her.” Bridget really was enjoying the book; but she put her bookmark in, ready to close it and braced herself for a discussion.

“Wait,” the brunette said, “You have a really nice voice, this may sound weird but could you read outloud?” She gave Bridget a sheepish smile.

“From the beginning?” Bridget gaped at her in disbelief. She was already on a quarter way through the book and it was a seriously odd request.

The brunette nodded, and then pressing her luck she turned to Benedict who had been silently watching the scene play out before him, “Could you possibly read too?”

Benedict looked over at Bridget then back to the brunette, the woman had gumption to ask two strangers to read her a book. It was odd, but he had had stranger requests. He glanced over at Bridget and tried to figure out how she felt about being asked to read aloud in a tube car. He had an odd enough day, some woman bumped into him so that her water bottle spilt on her while blouse, so why not, let’s read to strangers, he thought.  “Sure, if you’re willing to,” he looked over at Bridget, she did have a nice voice.

Bridget looked back and forth between Benedict and the brunette, why not, she thought, tomorrow at work car is getting lit on fire with me inside of it. She learned long ago not to ask questions and to just go with the flow of things.

“Ok then, Ladies and Gentlemen, I will be reading “Dance of Death” by Paige James; if you don’t want spoilers move to the other end of the car,” She scooted closer to Benedict and held the book open for him. Looking up she asked, “Do you want to narrate or should I?”

“You can,” Benedict smiled. Normally he would abhorre things like this, bombarding strangers with odd requests; but something about this Bridget Marks interested him.

She settled in next him, adjusted her glasses, and began to read.

 


	3. Interview: The Graham Norton Show

“Good evening, tonight we have Bridget Marks, known for her stunt work on “Top Gear, as well as for the movie “Sarah” where she lent her voice to the super advanced artificial intelligence Sarah. Hello Bridget!” Graham sits back, trying not to look smug, as the crowd cheered. They were perhaps more excited than he was for this interview. He still couldn’t believe that she was willing to come and do an interview literally the night she flew to Rome.

“Bridget, tonight you leave for Rome to start work on “Worth the Risk”, anything you can tell us about the project?” Graham sat forward, focusing on the tall leggy redhead. She was wearing a cream sweater dress over a pair of navy leggings. While she didn’t have much in the line of curves, her athletic figure and striking features made her stunning nonetheless.

“Really Graham, I expected better from you,” Bridget said on a laugh. “All I can say is that we are in Rome, and as they say, “when in Rome”. I just hope I get to drive a car.” She straightens in her chair, as if bracing herself for the impending question. It wasn’t that she was nervous about it, she wanted to clear the air and her publicist Monica agreed, the Graham Norton show was the best way to do damage control.

Sensing the change in her demeanor, Graham took the opening. “Three nights ago we had Benedict Cumberbatch on the show. He made quite the impression. Anything you would like to add to that?” Graham felt a little uneasy now that Bridget was sitting before him. Benedicts assessment of her was off, she might go back to driving cars but not as a stunt double. Bridget had the grace and elegance that would compliment both Benedict and Tom. It’s going to be one damn good looking film.

“Clearly it was out of character and he was probably a bit jetlagged,” she said, perhaps a bit too fast if the look Graham gave her was any indication. Hopefully that would keep everyone happy till after filming, that is barring any unexpected paparazzi in Rome. Now that she covered up, more or less, she could go to Rome and film in peace.

“Yes,” Graham agreed with narrowed eyes, clearly unhappy with the lack of gossip, “I would agree it was out of character. Probably was just jetlagged. So Rome, I hear a Maserati GranTurismo might be in the cards.” He tried not to sigh out loud, that was it; his one chance prior to them going off grid for three months to get the scoop on what ever it is between them. Or was it, he could still try from a different approach; their past work on “Sarah”.

Bridget visibly relaxed, cars really were her thing, “I’m not sure if it’s the GranTurismo, but I do know that a Maserati is in the mix. I just hope that it’s red.” She prayed that Graham would just stick to cars, it was what she knows and it was safe. Taking note of the glint in Graham’s eyes, she knew he wasn’t one to play it safe.

“You drove a Maserati on “Top Gear” several times, and the only time you took a break from the show was to film “Sarah” in Paris. How was working with Benedict?”

“It was fine working with Benedict, why wouldn’t it?” Bridget challenged him, she knew where he wanted the conversation to go; with luck she could hold him off till the break.

“He said you were fussy and unsure of yourself, thoughts?” Grasping at straws now, Bridget wasn’t going to give him anything. What ever she was covering had to be good.

Unable to argue that Benedict didn’t really say that, the bastard had some nerve saying that about her on television, Bridget tried to form her thoughts. “While, yes Benedict did indeed say I was fussy and unsure of myself, I believe he was referring to two separate incidents.” Which I will make up right now, she thought. “I was super fussy with my car. I had it sent via ferry so that I could just drive my own car while in France for the few weeks; as to being unsure of myself, it was in reference to the fact that it was my first time doing any voice acting. Up to that point in time, I had only done stunt work.”

Realizing that his time was up, and rather put out by her expert navigation around the whole issue; Graham cut to commercial.

 


	4. Flash back: London underground, five years ago.

Ben patted his jacket pocket for his glasses, for three weeks now every monday night at 8pm he and the oddly charming Bridget Marks would read aloud from the latest book by Paige James to a tube car full of people. He still couldn’t understand why he did it or why he kept doing it. The book was decent, he agreed with Bridget, or Bridge as she informed him her friends call her, Jonathan really did need to die; and perhaps, Ben hoped, tonight would be the night Jonathan died.

His mobile rang as he boarded the tube car, “Hello Mark.” A long time friend Mark Gatiss was working on a project about an incredibly advanced artificial intelligence named Sarah and her creator Frank. “You want me to play Frank? Uh sure, who will voice Sarah?” Mark confided that without a good voice for Sarah the project may not take off. Filming wouldn’t start for another year but they needed the voice actor soon for scheduling.

Ben took his seat, the next stop would be Bridget’s and then they would read aloud for an hour or so. Suddenly the thought occurred to him, “Mark, if I have someone who might work do you want me to bring her in? Excellent, just let me know when and where.” After pinning down a time and date, Mark agreed to meet Bridget; now to get Bridget to agree to meet Mark.

The tube pulled in at the next stop and in pilled people; Ben scanned for the leggy red head. When he spotted her, he couldn’t hold back a smile. Today she was wearing an odd bomber jacket with leather trousers. Her hair was wrangled into some kind of device that stuck off the back of her head and her glasses were crooked; and yet somehow it worked for him. In comparison to the sleek curvy brunette, Bridget really shouldn’t have stood a chance. However if Ben was to be honest with himself, he knew looks weren’t everything and there was something more to Bridget than she was letting on.

“Hi!” Bridget sat down quickly and pulled out “Dance of Death”, she had stopped reading it once they started reading aloud; now she was more anxious than ever to get back to the book.

Ben looked up from his mobile, “Quick question, what are you doing tomorrow at 3pm? A friend of mine needs someone to do voice acting and I think you could be a good fit.”

Bridget, stunned, dropped her bag in the seat next to her. “You think I’m good enough for voice acting?” Disbelief evident in her tone.

“I do, why don’t you give me your email and I’ll send you the details.” The more Ben thought about it, the more he liked the idea of working with Bridget.

She wrote down her email and handed it to him, “Okay, yeah I think I can make that work. Shall we? I have to keep it short tonight.” Bridget tried to keep the tremor out of her hand when she handed Ben her email, was she really going to consider doing voice acting? To that end, was she really going to entertain the possibility of working with Ben? She really did like him; smart, funny, handsome - the real deal wrapped up in a person with honesty, integrity, and perhaps of the most modest people she had ever met.

***

“Hi Mark, I’d like you to meet a friend. Bridget Marks, this is Mark Gatiss.” Ben introduced Bridget to the other people on the project then Mark dove right in.

“Bridget, Ben tells me you are an excellent reader.” Mark fiddled with the script, he trusted Ben but rarely did a random person off the street work out. Usually they get so star struck that their focus is way off. “But before we get to the reading, tell me what do you do?” And please don’t say unemployed, Mark thought.

Bridget blushed a little, “I’m a stunt driver.” She let that sink in for a moment before continuing, “Lately I’ve been doing work for “Top Gear”, I’m one of the Stig’s but I also just wrapped up in Greece for some Hollywood project.” The look of shock on Ben’s face was well worth withholding that bit of information from him. He had asked on their way in, but she evaded. She smiled at him, “I have my resume if your are interested.” Bridget reached into the leather bag, a wave of petrol rose to meet her, “Sorry, I was working in the shop today. Might smell like an engine block.”

“A stunt driver, and a mechanic?” Ben looked Bridget over again, this changed everything about how he viewed her.

“Any decent stunt driver should know their way around an engine,” Mark supplied for Bridget, eager to get going. Smiling up at Bridget, “Good, you are familiar with filming, that will make this much easier,” he handed her the script, “Just start from page one and we will take it from there.”

 


	5. Present: Thursday evening; London

“Taxi!” Bridget waved her hand, she didn’t really have to though. Between her hair, and standing at an impressive 5’8”; all she really had to do was stand in the road.

A taxi pulled up, right as she was about to get in, a hand grabs the door. Instantly irritated, she looked up to set the man straight. She had only a few hours to get to Heathrow before her flight left.

“Hi”, the man extended his hand, “Tom Hiddleston, pleased to meet you”. Tom regarded her warily, if Ben’s interview is to be believed she’s quite the temperamental handful; yet he wouldn’t know for certain due to the fact Ben had been blatantly ignoring his calls.

“Oh,” Bridget calmed down, they were probably flying together as it was. She had heard much about her new co-star but never met him. “Bridget Marks, but you knew that. Are you on your way to Heathrow as well? We could split the cab.”

“Actually I was going to head home quick, grab my things, and then head over. I saw you and wanted to introduce myself.” As if an afterthought he continued, “I saw both your’s and Ben’s interview.” Tom placed his hands in his pockets, not wanting to imply anything but really curious as to why Ben was being surly and why Bridget was willing to cover for him.

She looked him over, debating the merits of either of her choices, “If you live along the way, we can just stop at your place.” because clearly you want to talk. She let the words go unsaid but he knew where she was going with this. He had till Heathrow to quiz her, after that Tom would just have to suck it up and deal with not knowing.

It took him all of three seconds to decide, “Sure.” Tom rattled off his address, settled in and pinned her with a curious look, “So Ben was jetlagged eh?”

Bridget let out a frustrated sound, “I’m tired so this will come off as bitchy, just ask me what you want to know. I’m usually fine with subterfuge but tonight and in light of everything I’d prefer you’d be more direct.” She spent the past three days packing up her things, she had them shipped directly to her hotel room in Rome. The interview with Graham was a PR godsend but that meant she had to get everything ready and shipped, pack a small carry on, and find time to eat something; all prior to her interview. Once she hit that plane she would be out cold till Rome.

“Okay, What is going on between you and Ben?” That was about as direct as you could get, Tom thought.

“Nothing.” Was the curt reply from the seat next to him.

Tom tried not to let his frustration show, it really wasn’t his business and as long as they could keep it professional for three months it wouldn’t even be a concern. “Nothing, nothing is going on between you and Ben. Sorry if I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t care if you don’t believe me, there is nothing between us. That being said, why don’t you just ask him yourself. Seems to me he would be the better person to ask as it is.”

Tom opened his mouth to speak, but they pulled up to his address, “I’ll be ten minutes tops.” He dashed out of the cab and to the building. Bridget sat back and closed her eyes - it was going to be a long night.


	6. Flashback: Paris, four years ago.

Ben held the hotel door open for Bridget, they just got into Paris to begin a three week whirlwind filming of “Sarah”.

“You’ve been living in London for over six years and you never once visited France?” Ben looked flabbergasted when she admitted that while she moved to London on a whim following the death of her parents. Bridget was an only child and had no reason to stay stateside yet once she moved to London she had little intention of leaving. In fact her little trip to Greece was the only time she left in all her time in England.

Shaking her head, “No, there was and is so much to see in the UK alone I couldn’t be pressed to go else where.” Ready for a subject change, “Since you are the seasoned traveler, tell me where are the most romantic spots in Paris, and what are the must stop at cafes?” In conjunction to living in England for six years, she hadn’t dated in that amount of time. It was time to get back on the horse and Paris, being the city of romance would be a perfectly reasonable start. Especially since Bridget had been losing sleep over the notion of working with Ben.

“You want romance and cafes,” unsure how to answer her, Ben took a deep breath and plunged right in. “Well there are a couple of places where you can have both. The Eiffel Tower for one. Why do you ask?” He wanted to know, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready for the answer.

“I guess,” Bridget walked over to the front desk, collected her key and waited for Ben to do the same, “Paris just seems romanic. The art, the music, it’s all beautiful. And, I really like coffee.” She shrugged, unwilling to let Ben see how much she was starting to like him.

They headed up the stairs, she was on one end of the third floor and he the other end. All she had was three weeks in Paris. After that they were doing separate studio time in London and wouldn’t really see each other till the premier several months later. That is, assuming, they go their separate ways.

About to part, both to their rooms, one of the gaffers ran down the hall, “Hey, tonight, that bar across the street - whole cast and crew party. Think of it as a meet and greet. They have karaoke and apparently really dig American tunes. Bridget, can you sing?”

“Yeah, what time tonight?” She loved living in Europe, but the one thing if she had to pick that she missed from home - American bar music.

“8pm ish, is when the music starts. Food and stuff starts around 7; Ben you’re in right?” the lanky gaffer smiled when Ben nodded and continued down the hall knocking on doors and sharing the news.

Bridget looked at Ben, “I guess I will see you at 7?” and now I have four hours to shower and find something cute to wear. Mentally going through what clothes she had, Bridget almost missed his reply.

“How about we get coffee at 6 and walk over to the bar?” Ben smiled at her, “I know the perfect spot.”


	7. Present: Thursday Night; Heathrow Airport, England

Bridget practically ran through ticket check and security. All she needed to do was get away from Tom and she would be fine. At ticket check she happily discovered there were two different flights leaving at 3am, and she hoped beyond a hope that Tom would be on the other flight. He spent the remainder of the cab ride to the airport - an excruciating 45 minutes, trying to pry information out of her.

Gate 45, that was her goal, the other flight was out of Gate 14; practically the other side of the Terminal. Suddenly she felt more optimistic, once she got to Rome she had two and a half days to get settled in, then they would get to work. Bridget started going through all the places she wanted to visit in those short few days. Lost in her thoughts she headed to Gate 45.

Benedict sat back in his chair at Gate 45, a text from Tom indicated they would be flying together. He started looking around, Tom wasn’t exactly hard to miss but with boarding starting soon he wasn’t sure if he would catch him prior to finding their seats. Sweeping the crowd with his eyes he looked for anyone that he would know, he knew several of the cast was taking this flight. Ben caught glimpse of a tall woman with curly red hair, he swore under his breath, of course Bridget would be flying with them. Glaring in her direction he didn’t see Tom approach.

“Ben, ah yes the lovely Bridget.” Tom followed Ben’s gaze, “You know she did you a favor tonight.”

Ben sneared, “Is that what we are calling that? She covered her own ass. And no matter how grabbable it may be it’s nothing special.”

Tom held up his hands, “I’m not accusing you, I’m just saying she covered your ass as well. You were completely out of line on the Graham Norton show. Even you have to admit that.”

Ben didn’t have a chance to respond. Bridget found them right before he could. Truth be told he couldn’t have found the words if he wanted to, her beauty stole his breath away - still after going four years without seeing her.

“You have got to be kidding me, all three of us on the same flight? Let me guess I’m stuck sitting next to him since you purposefully bought the seat next to yours so you don’t have to share.” She was mad, fuming to be exact. During the horridly long cab drive over, she noticed Tom had mentioned he usually buys two tickets so he doesn’t run the risk of having a travel partner. While Bridget does well for a stunt driver, she really wasn’t flush enough to justify two plane tickets. She figured First class, at 3am really wouldn’t be full so she stood a good chance at travelling alone. Or not as it turned out.

Tom looked between Ben and Bridget, both of them were avoiding looking at each other. He tried not to roll his eyes as they both held out their tickets and visibly flinched when it revealed that they would be indeed sitting next to each other for the next two and half hours.

While shorter than both of them, Bridget could still hold her own, so with as much dignity as she could she and her little wheeled luggage that she had to stoop to roll marched to the gate. “I’m am not going to let them ruin a perfectly decent trip to Rome,” she muttered aloud. Bridget made the mental note to stop talking aloud if at all possible - it became something of a habit around Benedict.

Once she was out of earshot, Ben let out a low whistle. She never saw how beautiful she was. Athletically built, narrow waist, a modest bust complemented by a large derriere, all led up to the heart shaped face framed by a waist long mane of red curls.

Tom clearly unamused gave Ben a look, “You are cromagnon personified! How can you snarl at her like that, act like a child when finding out you are sitting with her, then whistle because she has a nice ass?” Uncaring that he was yelling, the whole gate - all ten of them, were looking at Ben and Tom. It was fortunate that everyone knew who Tom was yelling about, it was unfortunate because they were all working on the same project. The crew was split between a few flights, this flight was exclusively cast and crew of “Worth the Risk”.

Ben quickly glanced around and dragged Tom by the arm, trying to pull him aside. “Will you lower your damn voice!” he snapped sotto voce, “Now that everyone knows what is going on will you listen to me. No, I haven’t returned your calls. I had no intention of returning your calls. This was a conversation to be had face to face. I have three minutes - can I talk?”

Tom sobered, “Is everything okay? Honestly as long as you two can keep it professional I don’t give a damn, but I’m worried about you.” He truly was, in all the years he had known Benedict he had never seen him act like this.

Sighing, “Yes, I’m okay. Bridget and I obviously have history. I have a few days prior to us really starting to work things out with her. That being said, I know, no matter what, she will keep it professional on set.” At least I hope so, Ben thought. He really didn’t know, there was so much distance between them now and years of silence, Ben really couldn’t say for sure what Bridget would do. “Since we are boarding now, I’ll fill you in once we arrive. Damn woman will drive me insane. Did you know she smells like apple blossom? I can’t have a freaking apple without thinking of her. Four years of no apples, do you know what that does to a person?” Ben raked his fingers through his hair.

At a total loss for words, and really not sure how to respond to the apple blossoms comment, he just gave him a nod, and together they boarded the plan. Two and a half hours, that was all he had to get through.

 


	8. Flash back: Paris, four years ago

Ben held the door to the bar open for Bridget, she could hear singing all the way outside and was eager to join in. Her nerves where shot, the whole time at the cafe Ben made sure he was always almost touching her. The conversation was wonderful, too long had it been since Bridget had a really good heartfelt debate about the merits of a V8 engine on a winding English road. They talked about family, careers, books, music; so many things learned and shared. They were caught up in the V8 debate when Ben got a message from Mark. It was already 9pm, and people were wondering if they were going to show.

She turned, right before being engulfed by the rowdy crowd. “Ben, I want to say thank you for such a wonderful evening. I’m really glad I sat next to you on that tube car that day.” Suddenly nervous, she reached up and pecked a kiss to his cheek, and then dashed into the fray before Ben could say or do anything.

Ben watched her disappear into the crowd; well not entirely, her hair was misbehaving something terribly this evening and was sticking out at odd ends. He considered her actions, and thought back through the conversation they had tonight. Bridget Marks was something special, and Ben would be stupid to let her go.

***

“Wait tomorrow is the last day of filming in Paris?” Bridget looked up from her script. “That can’t be right, we have what the whole rest of the script to go.” Slouching in her chair, she started thumbing through the script.

“No you have four pages left, Ben has half a script to go. Since it was only voice we didn’t much of the set work and no costumes. You just wrapped up what would have taken at least two months of filming if you were a face on screen. But as Sarah, I just need your voice.” Mark looked at Bridget, he liked working with her. Ben had made a really good call with bringing her in.

“Wow, um thanks Ursula I’ll keep my voice and you and flotsam can go torment some other mermaid,” Bridget let out a laugh, working with Mark Gatiss was wonderful. Lately she hadn’t been working with Ben as much, tomorrow would be their last day on set together then he would go on location to finish it. They wouldn’t really have a chance to see each other until the premier in several months.

Fiddling with her pen, “Ben in today?” She tried to keep her tone casual.

“Yes, He should be here any moment now,” Mark turned, “Speak of the devil.”

Ben walked into the recording studio, today and tomorrow was all he had left to convince Bridget to take a chance on him. He didn’t want to push too hard, she was for whatever reason skittish about the idea of dating. He rarely saw her alone with men and she certainly didn’t dress to invite leering. In fact the only time she wore something completely feminine was the first night, when she wore a kelly green blouse with a pair of white capris.

“We are going to start from page 60 and read to 65 today and finish up tomorrow,” Mark spoke into the microphone that fed into the headphones that Bridget and Ben wore. “In,” Mark counted down with his fingers from three, then pointed at them.

They finished the take right as Joe, head of HR, popped his head in, “Party, same bar as the first night. Who’s in?” He looked around quickly, “Good all of you, 8pm and this time no one be late.” He gave Ben and Bridget a teasing look before dashing back out.

“Is is normal for people to run up to you and say party at this time and place then run away?” Bridget looked over at Ben, after pulling off the headphones.

“That would be no, I mean usually we would get together what ever cast/crew we buddied up with over the course of filming but nothing so encompassing.” Ben was wondering the same thing but decided that it was best to just go with the flow. Oddly enough he found he enjoyed the whole group of them hanging out.

Bridget looked down at her outfit - baggy pants and a old F1 shirt; then she looked at Ben - nice trousers with a polo. “We have about an hour before it starts, how about I change quick and meet you in the lobby at 7:45?” She gave him a sheepish grin.

Ben held back a smile, since it was only the two of them in the studio and Mark couldn’t hear them, “Bridge you look wonderful no matter what.” He loved watching her blush. Ever since she gave him leave to use her nickname, he treated it like an endearment. No one else got to call her “Bridge”. Standing and purposefully brushing up against her, he added, “But if you want to change, I’ll meet you in the lobby at 7:45.”

Bridget held Ben’s gaze for a long moment, she was about to speak when Mark spoke through the intercom, “Are you two good? I’m shutting this down. Let’s start tomorrow at 1pm.”

Nodding her head. They exited the recording room and stepped into the studio, “Sure. Are you coming tonight Mark?” Mark locked the door to the recording room.

“Nope, I want a nice nap before my long day tomorrow. You two have fun.” Ben and Bridget left the studio with Mark as he locked up for the evening. Giving Ben a pat on the shoulder he said, “See you tomorrow.”

Bridget edged away, she wanted as much time as she could get, “I’ll catch up with you later Ben.”

They were alone in the hall, “Bridge wait.” Ben called out. She paused and turned toward him. In two strides he was right in front of her, he reached up and cupped her face with his left hand guiding it to his face. Without breaking eye contact he whispered, “Perhaps you might consider wearing a dress tonight.” Bridget’s eyes widened with surprise and her mouth formed a little O, taking the invitation he kissed her.

Bridget had been kissed, on multiple occasions by several men. She thought she had a handle on kissing. Press lips here, perhaps add a little tongue action; all in all rather passive and not all that exciting. Ben kissed her with ardency and passion, a full body experience. Pressing her against the wall, molding his body against hers. His left hand guiding her face so that he could deepen the kiss, while his right hand gripped her hip pulling her closer. His tongue teased her, first almost flirting then possessively thrusting into her mouth. Bridget’s hands moved on their own accord, one clinging to his shoulders while the other happily felt up his backside. When Ben’s hand slowly grasped her breast, she moaned. Her nippled pearled anxtiously.

Ben tried to reign himself in, he couldn’t very well take her right in the hallway. He meant to just kiss her but the need to possess her overwhelmed him. He dropped his hands back down to her hips, and rested his forehead against her shoulder. Both of them were panting slightly.

“You were going to change,” Ben finally raised his head and looked at Bridget. She looked wonderful when kissed properly; her face was flushed and her lips were full and red.

Clearing her throat, “Yes, I was.” Quickly stepping away and practically dashing down the hall, Bridget took to her room. She had one dress, a red halter with a A-line skirt. Stripping quickly she turned on the shower, she needed to cool off before she went into public with Ben. Not that she was expecting him to be a gentleman tonight and keep his hands to himself.

After her shower, she dressed, tried to tame her hair, and put on some makeup. Over the past few weeks she hung out in makeup when she could to get some tips on how to actually apply eyeliner and eyeshadow. Looking in the mirror, and seeing how her eyes popped she figured she learned enough to impress Ben. No sense in denying that it was all for him. Looking around her room, it dawned on her one of the possible outcomes for the evening. Quickly throwing clothing into a pile in one corner and tidying up the bed, it didn’t need to be perfect but she didn’t want any hazards in the way. One last glance in the mirror, and off she dashed.

Ben stood in the lobby waiting for Bridget, he had changed into a nice button down with trousers but nothing too fancy. He heard heels clicking on the steps and looked up to see miles of leg  disappearing into a red dress. “Well, I see I was right to suggest a dress. You didn’t have to, but I’m glad you did. Bridge, you look lovely.” Fuckable actually but he figured probably wasn’t the right thing to say.

“You cleaned up rather nicely yourself,” She held out her arm, “Shall we?”

They meandered over to the bar, ordered drinks, and enjoyed the company of the cast and crew who became dear friends to them over the past few weeks. The hours ticked by and Bridget and Ben, along with the rest of the bar, became more and more inebriated. The songs got louder, and probably worse, but they didn’t care.

“...I can see Paradise by the dashboard light,” Joe sang off key and wobbled in his chair.

“Shit I’m drunk,” Bridget giggled as she leaned heavily on Ben. She didn’t want to think about tomorrow or the plane flight back to London or work in a few days. All she wanted was to focus on the man she was currently using as a leaning post. Awkwardly she tried to wrap her arm around his waist, but just ended up grabbing his ass.

“Hey, you,” Ben gave her a drunken unabashed smile, “watch what you are grabbing. We are still in public.” He pulled her closer, mercifully the bar decided to let the radio play Springfield’s “Jessie’s Girl”. Not exactly a slow song but slow enough for them to dance.

Bridget looked up at Ben who was humming along. She took a deep breath, it was now or never, “We don’t have to stay in public.”

Ben gave her a smile, and placed a kiss on her nose, “I thought you would never ask.” He took her hand, and they made for the door.

 


	9. Present: Friday morning; Ciampino Airport, Rome

Tom rubbed his temples, after boarding the plane and even with Ben sitting with him, Bridget and Ben bickered the entire flight. He had a massive migraine and couldn’t wait to be rid of either of them. Last to arrive at the spot their driver was going to pick them up he walked right into yet another argument.

“So you are not going to admit that I saved you from a PR nightmare? After the stunt you pulled. You have got to be kidding me,” Bridget moved her hands erratically, almost taking a pedestrian out.

Ben glared at her, “You didn’t save me from anything, considering the whole thing is your fault to begin with!”

“Enough!” Tom had had it with the two of them, “We are working together in Rome for the next three months. If you two can’t straighten your shit out now, this is going to be a nightmare - both for those of us working with you and for the press. Would you like to give them a field day?” Tom glared at both of them. “Now get in the damn car. We are going to the hotel, you two are going to find a nice quiet spot and hash it out - or not. I don’t care. What I do care about is that come Monday morning this,” He gestured angrily to both of them, “is done. Am I clear?”

Both of them stunned, nodded mutely. Unwilling to anger Tom further they silently put their bags into the boot of the car, and slid into the back seat giving Tom the front. Neither of them made eye contact on the short drive to the hotel they were staying at. It wasn’t even breakfast time when they arrived.

After checking in and their things brought to their room, Ben looked at the schedule for the next two weeks. Addressing both Tom and Bridget, “It says here that at 7pm is a meet and greet dinner for cast and crew at the hotel restaurant. Then nothing till Monday.” He continued, talking now more so to Bridget than Tom, “That gives us three whole days to get things sorted. However, I think we all need sleep.” Not that he was going to catch a wink, Bridget had taken her sweater dress off once on the plane and changed into a form fitting t-shirt. It was all he could do to not reach out and brush her curls off her face. Ben knew he would be dreaming about her for weeks.

“Sounds good, shall I tell the front desk to give all of us a wake up call at 11am?” Bridget looked back and forth between the two men. She knew Tom was handsome, but he just didn’t do anything for her. Ben on the other hand, in a simple outfit of jeans and a tee with a cap was just the sexiest thing ever.

Tom nodded on a yawn, “Thanks. See you,” and he headed for the stairs.

Bridget turned to head to the desk when she heard Ben say softly, “Thanks Bridge.”

She stilled, he hadn’t called her by her nickname since Paris, but by the time she turned to see if he really did say anything - he was gone. She trudged up to the desk, suddenly very weary, “Can I schedule a wake up call for Tom Hiddleston, Benedict Cumberbatch and myself, Bridget Marks for 11am today?” After confirming the wake up call, Bridget headed for her room. Doomsday was coming, and she needed all the sleep she could get to be ready for it.

 


	10. Flashback: Paris, four years ago

“So whose key is this? And which room are we at, they all look the same.” Ben wobbled slightly. He couldn’t really see straight as it was.

“Rock, paper, scissor for the key. We take the room it opens.” Bridget smiles triumphantly in her drunken haze.

They stayed for a few more drinks, delayed by several of the cast and crew. Both now fully in their cups they had stumbled up the stairs and back to their rooms.

“Okay, rock, paper, scissor, shoot.” Ben held out paper, and Bridget rock, “Paper covers rock, I win.” He waived his key in salute. He tried the lock and no success. Stumbling in the direction of what he hoped was his room, he pulled Bridget along. “Come along Bridge darling,”

Ben wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her in for a kiss. Clinging to him, trying to walk and kiss at the same time Bridget staggered. Ben turned, facing her and pressed her against the wall. Kissing her, his tongue mimicked what his hips suggested as he molded his body flush against hers. He needed to get her naked, he needed to get to whatever room the damn key opened. Reluctantly he pulled away from Bridget, her breath was coming quick and her chest heaved against the form fitting bodice of her dress.

“If we don’t get to a room quick, I can’t promise I’ll keep my hands to myself,” Ben ground out. He was so hard it hurt.

Bridget took a step toward him, gave him a little love nip on the jaw, “If you don’t get me to a room quick, I don’t think I’ll care.” Her hands drifted to his belt, tugging on one of the loops of his trousers.

Ben took her hand and they dashed down the hall as best they could. Reaching the room, he focused on getting the door open. Bridget focused on getting him out of his shirt. He fumbled with the lock when she ripped his shirt open, buttons popping and pinging off the wall. Tugging his shirt free, she ran her hands up and down his back while kissing his neck. Finally Ben got the door opened, he pushed inside and turned her around against the door. A quick glance confirmed it was his room - which was good, the extra condoms were here. He flicked the lock on the door and pulled off the remainder of his shirt.

Bridget felt herself being lifted, instinctively she wrapped her legs around Ben’s waist. His hand moved up her leg, and the tip of his index finger played with the edge of her panties. She started grinding against him, he let out a moan. His other hand unclipped the top to her dress and the straps to her halter top fell down revealing that with this particular dress one does not wear a bra.

Ben’s eyes darkened, and almost reverently he brought both hands up to her breasts. Lightly, delicately he caressed them, let their weight fill his palms. He rolled her nipples between his finger and thumb, gently at first but then increased pressure till Bridget let her head fall back on a moan. Ben took advantage of her exposed neck and set to making his mark as he teased her nipples. She was writhing against him, he almost dropped her when she called out his name. If he could have her moaning like this, he couldn't wait to make her cry out later.

Dropping his hands, Bridget whimpered. Ben grasped her bottom and as he pulled away from the door to walk to the bed she kissed him. Ben unceremoniously dropped her onto the bed, but she wasn't about to protest. He toed off his shoes, and started working on his belt. Quickly she kicked off her heels, tucked her legs under her and reached for him.

“I want to help,” Not giving him a chance to reply she tugged him closer. Her intent was obvious. Bridget set to removing Ben’s clothing, she paused only for a moment to savor the sight of a glorious naked Benedict. She grasped his hips and pulled him closer, with one hand she fondled his sac while the other she slowly started stroking him.

Ben let out a strangled cry, he didn’t want her to stop but if she didn’t he doubt he would last much longer. All thought fled, however, when she took him into her mouth. One hand still massaging his sac and the other pumped in tandem to her mouth. His hands at first clenched in fists at his sides, instinctually threaded themselves into to her hair; guiding her, letting her set the depth but he the pace. Soon he could feel himself tighten, he wasn’t sure if he could hold off long enough to not come in her mouth.

“Bridge, I… I’m going to…”

Bridget’s only response was to take him deeper. She felt him tighten, then groan loudly as he came. Swallowing she slowly let go, only to reach for him as his legs buckled slightly. Bridget licked her lips and looked up at him. She had never wanted to do that until Ben, something about him brought out her wicked side.

“Dress. Off. Now.” Ben wanted her naked beneath him in the worse way. While he was recuperating for round two he could certainly get her caught up. Bridget tugged off her dress and laid back to pull off her panties. Ben stopped her, “No. You are going to keep your hands to yourself.” He placed her hands up near the headboard. then he settled himself atop of her, savoring the feel of her pearled nipples against his chest. He kissed her possessively while one hand reached between her legs. He only brushed against her apex, but her panties were already damp.

Bridget clung to the headboard as Ben took one of her turgid nipples into his mouth, and pinched the other with his thumb and forefinger. She cried out, bucking against him. He ignored her pleas as he alternated between her breasts. Desperately she writhed beneath him, the pressure mounting deep inside of her.

“Ben touch me, please! Make me come.” Bridget wailed.

Ben looked up from his ministrations, an almost feral grin crossed his face. “I thought you would never ask.”

For a moment she was nervous, never had a man looked at her like that. Then again, never had a man have her begging just by touching her breasts.

Ben released her breasts, gave each tip a little kiss, then he worked down her taut stomach. He reached the edge of her panties, with his teeth he pulled them down to her knees then pulled them off with his hand. He forced her legs open, as he placed kiss after kiss up the inside of one leg. He paused only to blow lightly on the already swollen flesh, to hear her hiss in desperation and then he repeated on the other leg. Ben was ready to sink into her, but was she ready? Further he wanted to listen to her scream as he made her come with his tongue.

Bridget watched Ben settle himself between her legs. As with her breasts, he lightly traced the seam. One long tapered finger, then two, back and forth. His fingers paused only twice, to flick the little nub at her apex and to every so slightly push into her entrance.

“Please…” she was hardly audible, but he knew. She thought she was ready, but truly she wasn’t. Not ready to feel his tongue flick against her sensitive nub, not ready to feel two then three fingers slide deep inside of her. As he thrusted his fingers, he laved her clit. She cried nearing the precipice. Faster and harder he moved, finally she called out his name. If asked to describe it, Bridget would have said she saw stars she came so hard.

Slowly withdrawing his hand, Ben laid his head on her hip. Listening to her rapid breathing and her heart pound. He crawled up to lay beside her, held her close and whispered in her ear, “Ready for more?”


	11. Present: Friday mid morning; Rome, Italy

Ben jolted awake to the sound of a phone ringing, fumbling for the phone he answered. It was his wake up call. 11am. He was set to meet Bridget and Tom for lunch and then he was to talk to Bridget alone. He missed her, that much he would admit; but with the crap she pulled in Paris he would just tell her to stuck it up and to leave him alone as best she could and then they could go their separate ways.

The shower helped, but the coffee was what made him feel human again. Ben took a deep breath, and pushed open the door. Heading down the empty hall way he thought about how he would tell Bridget essentially that she was persona non grata. It wasn’t something you could easily build up to but knowing Bridget, if he just dropped the bomb like that she would explode and live up to the stereotype about red heads and their temper.

Bridget heard footsteps coming down the stairs and turned to see Ben walking toward her. She would apologize for her actions, if only she knew what she did wrong. Clearly he blamed her for something, even though he hurt her pretty badly in Paris. Maybe if she just opened with a blanket apology, he might give her some indication as to what she did wrong.

“Ben, I…” she trailed off as he held up his hand.

“Please, let me go first.” Ben closed his eyes, unable to look at Bridget as he said the words that he felt needed to be said, “Let’s keep the next few months as professional as possible, but after that I never wish to speak to you again.” Slowly he raised his head, and opened his eyes. Nothing could have prepared him for the unabashed pain that shone through those beautiful green eyes.

Tom’s footsteps echoed in the foyer, Ben turned towards him. As long as Tom was around he could keep up the facade of impartial and distant. Something nagged at his conscious, he knew good acting but he also knew honest emotion. Bridget wasn’t acting.

“Benedict I’m sorry,” she said pleading with him, desperation edging into her voice.

He gave her a cold look, “Tom, let’s find something for lunch. I’m hungry,” and as if it were an afterthought, “Are you coming Bridget?” He couldn’t leave it alone, just keep rubbing that lemon juice and salt in that open wound.

Bridget couldn’t move, she couldn’t speak. Never did she think that Ben would just push her away like that and not give her room to explain.

Taking her non-action as a form of dismissal, Ben turned, “Fine, see you at dinner tonight with the rest of the cast and crew.” He walked away without a glance back, he couldn’t look at her not now.

Tom, debating on whether to stay or leave, saw the lone tear slide down Bridget’s face. Steeling himself to a difficult lunch partner, Tom went after Ben. It was one thing to not like someone, but to not give them a chance to explain was a bit extreme.

Bridget watch them walk off, she turned and some how made it back to her room. The tears held back long enough for her to schedule yet another wake up call, this one for 5pm. She curled into a ball and cried herself to sleep. Never had she felt so hurt, not even when her parents died over a decade ago.

***

Her wake up call came, and Bridget woke feeling refreshed. A quick call to Monica, and Bridget felt better; good actually, if that was possible. She wouldn’t let Ben get to her. Flipping through the filming schedule and the script, Bridget noticed she really wouldn’t be working all that much with Ben - quite a bit with Tom but he seems easy enough to get along with. Fortified with the knowledge that she would not only get past this issue with Ben but she would survive the film, she looked to her bags.

Now for a dress that showed off her mile long legs and lithe form. If Ben wasn’t going to give her the time of day, that was fine. There were plenty of fish in the sea. Slipping into a burgundy summer dress and heels, Bridget dabbed on some makeup and headed for the door.

The restaurant was nice, typical Italian esque decoration, the host showed her to the back room where the group was gathering. Upon arrival, a stocky yet striking man handed her a glass of wine. Quick introductions were made, Bridget was known for her work with cars and these guys were apparently big fans. She spent the remainder of the evening with most of the crew. There was a car chase scene, and they hinted at the Maserati she would be driving; one of the main reasons she was brought onto the project was for the car chase. But mostly they talked about their wives and family, all of them local to the area around Rome.

She was able to have a wonderful night out, she couldn’t wait to work with these guys. By 1am Bridget called it a night, it had flown by, if Ben or Tom were there she never saw them.


	12. Flash back: Paris, four years ago

The jackhammer apparently located on the third floor of the small Parisian hotel, hammered away happily outside Ben’s room. In fact, if he had to guess they were redoing the bathroom in his hotel room and forgot to tell him.

He woke slowly, gingerly rubbing his temples, “Never, ever, ever mix whatever I had last night again.” He opened one eye, the little crack of light that pierced the room made his headache worse. With a groan, he slowly rolled over reaching for Bridge. When Ben’s hand met cold empty sheets, he sat up quickly. Too quickly, as a wave of nausea forced him to lay back down.

“Bridge?” Calling out, his voice cracked and his tongue felt unusually thick in his mouth. Trying again, this time louder, “Bridget!” Nothing, the room was empty and she was gone.

***

Showered, shaved, and more or less restored to normal, Ben grabbed his hat, wallet, hotel key, and mobile and headed for the door. He needed to get out the room as soon as humanly possible. Somehow he managed all of his morning ablutions without once glancing at the bed. Opening the door, he was pleased to see Karon. “Good morning, I know this is odd but could you finish my packing and have my suitcase ready to be picked up at the front desk this evening? I’m in the studio from 1pm to 5pm and I’d like to get back to London tonight.”

Without even batting an eyelash, she nodded. He wasn’t sure how or why Karon put up with him but he was glad, especially at times like today, she did. Ben gave her a quick hug, and left.

Standing on the sidewalk outside the hotel, he took in a deep breath. A glance at his watch told him he had about 3 hours before he had to be in the studio. Looking to his right he saw the cafe adjacent to the hotel, there she was with her flaming red hair sticking akimbo off her head. “No, I just can’t handle you right now. Get through today and the rest of the film, then we will talk.” Ben turned left, and stalked off.

It wasn’t the notion of a one night stand that bothered him, it just wasn’t something he did - often. But no matter how the night started, he always saw his guest to the door either that evening or the following morning. It left no miscommunications, between him and the woman. Regardless of his bizarre English propensity for manors, Ben really liked Bridget; and up until this morning he really thought she could have been that person. He didn’t like thinking about the word wife, it was too hopeful. Bridget had the qualities that he wanted in a woman, and, possible the most important detail ever, she even sent his mum a birthday card without ever meeting her.

Reaching yet another little cafe that dotted the streets of Paris, he ordered coffee and a croissant. Sitting at a table, and reaching for a newspaper his mobile went off. “What are the odds,” he murmured before answering, “Good morning Mum, and how are you?”

They chatted for about an hour, he evaded the subject of Bridget for most of the conversation until the end when she asked when Bridget would be visiting and what she liked for dinner. Dropping his head to his hand, Ben broke the news to his mother that Bridget didn’t work out and that there was little chance of repairing that damage prior to him leaving to finish the film.

Like any good mother who wants nothing more than her almost 40 year old son to be happily married with babies, she tried to get him to talk about it. She even tried to get Bridget’s number. In the end, Ben was able to convince her that there was no repairing the damage and Bridget was truly to blame.

After hanging up, and settling his bill - he required several cups of tea to get through that conversation; Ben left the cafe. His goal was to avoid the studio until the last minute. Get the last run in, and get home. His flat in London was seeming endlessly wonderful right now.

Walking around Paris, Ben thought through the conversation he had with his mother. Wincing slightly when recalling some of the harsher things he said about Bridget just to get his mum off his case. Bridget may have wounded his pride and bruised his heart, but calling her a ‘petulant child who wants nothing more than to play with cars’ was a bit much. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t come back to bite you in the ass,” he thought.

With that he tucked his hands into his trouser pockets and resolved to not think on Bridget but to focus on the beauty that was Paris and the Parisian women who lived there.

 


	13. Present: Saturday morning; Rome, Italy

Naked she crawled atop of him, then straddled him; she whispered in his ear, “are you ready” right before she bit his ear lobe. Her fingers laced an intimate trail down his chest and legs. He let out a low moan, she wouldn’t let him touch her but she promised to make it worth his while. Slowly she worked her way down his neck and chest - placing kisses where her fingers trailed. Her fingers playfully traced the inside of his thighs, each swipe getting closer and closer to where he needed her most. She tugged his boxer briefs off, tracing lightly around his already hard member. It pulsed, almost painfully, when her red hair brushed against him.

He moaned again, his hands fisting the sheets. His hips thrusted forward on their own accord when she started to tease his sac with little flicks of her tongue. He started to plead with her, if she waited any longer he would come with just a touch of her hand. Looking down, he took in the sight before him - her naked and between his legs with her head poised, her hands braced on either of his legs. They made eye contact; a wicked smile was the only warning he had before she took him deep into her mouth.

***

Ben woke with a jolt. Bewildered by his current location - tangled in a suspiciously damp sheet on the ground next to his bed, he looked around. Bed - check; naked - check; morning wood taken care of - check; woman who gave him the blow job of the year - missing.

“Or,” he murmured aloud, “I’m just that good, that I can now get myself off in my sleep. And sadly I think that is the case.”

Raking his fingers through his hair, he detangled from the sheet and tossed it near the door. Ben sat on the bed, hand cradling his head, he was never going to survive this film. Watching Bridget last night was agonizing. He was torn between begging for her forgiveness and ripping the arms off of the man who decided she made a good arm rest. This possessive neanderthal thing was getting old, Tom even started to notice but was smart enough not to say anything. The dream he had last night wasn’t helping, with the dress she wore and the memories they shared it wasn’t a surprise that Ben had an exceptionally vivid wet dream. He could feel himself getting hard just thinking about her legs wrapped around him, pulling him deeper.

“So what do we do?” Looking around the room, seeking answers that weren’t going to be there, “First things first - shower. Then I have to decide, do I forgive her enough to let her talk or do I just drop the issue and forget about her.” He walked over to his suit case, opened the top and grabbed the first shirt he reached. “God damn-it!” Ben crushed the shirt in a fist, it was one of his favorite’s, looking at the chocolate brown bamboo cotton shirt with the little dark pink gecko on the hem of the right sleeve. Consequently, it was also the only thing Bridget ever gave him. She said it matched his eyes, no matter what color they chose to be that day. He couldn’t just let this go, neither the shirt nor the issue.

“We are not done yet, Bridge darling. Not by a long shot.” Speaking to the empty room renewed his conviction that talking to Bridget was the best option - the only option. Ben didn’t want to be alone any longer, but he couldn’t move forward with anyone until he laid to rest his past. Whether Bridget was in his future was yet to be seen.

 


	14. Flash back: Paris, four years ago

Bridget sat in the cafe adjacent to the hotel, she already finished her coffee and drank Ben’s. What was taking him so long? She thought the note she left was pretty self explanatory: “I needed a shower and a fresh change of clothes. Meet me at the little cafe outside the hotel at 10am”. It was now going on 11, and still no Ben.

Last night was amazing, Bridget thought wistfully to herself. She really though she stood a chance at dating Benedict Cumberbatch. Something that never struck her as remarkable until now. Up to this morning, he was just a guy named Ben. Left to her own thoughts while sitting awkwardly at a cafe table for two for almost an hour; Bridget started to wonder. She knew she wasn’t his type, and as the minutes ticked by she started to wonder if it was all just a dream. Or worse still, a pity fuck. Who would want to sleep with the gangly redhead who really only know cars. Why would, Benedict Cumberbatch, of all people want to date her?

A tear fell onto her hand, wiping her face she realized she worked herself up over nothing and was now crying in public. An older woman looked at her with pity, “ils ne sont jamais en vaut la peine” they are never worth it. It took Bridget a moment to realize that the woman was talking about the man who obviously stood her up. Quickly she paid her bill and hurried out of the cafe.

Bridget walked to clear her head, unfortunately all that she could think of was that either she read the whole situation with Ben wrong, or it was just one big misunderstanding. Finding a small street market, Bridget distracted herself with smelling fresh bread and admiring beautiful scarves. But when she turned a corner and saw Ben flirting with a woman selling cheese, Bridget felt her heart break. The past few weeks was just normal for a guy like Benedict, he had a scratch and she was the ideal scratching post - single, lonely, and ridiculously naive.

Holding back tears, that now threatened; Bridget headed for the hotel. She still had time, perhaps she could take a drive and clear her head. She still had work at 1, her last shift. Just 4 hours with Ben, that’s what she had to get through; then it was smooth sailing to Calais. Bridget had booked a hotel outside of Calais for a week, shortly after arriving in Paris. She was so excited to see the countryside that was so close to London, yet somehow so far away, that she had her friend Monica bring her car over to Paris.

Reaching the hotel, she noticed some of the crew was hanging out in the parking lot; not really wanting to talk to them she headed for her room to pack.

***

Bridget walked into the studio at 1pm sharp. She had spent the afternoon alternating between crying and packing; she was tired. Ben sat in a chair next to his microphone, and Bridget noticed that her chair and microphone were pushed to be almost opposite from him. If that’s how he wanted to be, fine. Squaring her shoulders, she took a deep breath and walked in.

“Hello Mark, Ben,” Bridget addressed the men cooly. If she could keep her emotions at bay this could work.

Mark said hello, and Ben simply nodded. Right, she thought, because sleeping with me was such a hardship.

“Let’s get right to it shall we? I’d like to hit the road by 5:30.” Both Mark and Bridget turned to look at Ben. His harsh tone brokered little argument from either of them, particularly because they all just wanted to get out of the little box.

Digging in, Bridget and Ben were able to wrap up the whole script in under 3 hours. Mark was so impressed that he didn’t even bother asking either of them what was going on.

At least not until Ben left. “What is going on between you and Ben?” Mark tried to ask casually, Bridget’s head whipped up. And for a few moments Mark could see more, much more, than Bridget wanted him to.

Quickly dropping her head back down, “Uh nothing. Just a bit of a disagreement”

“Are you alright,” Mark was worried, they were fine last night. And if what he heard from the crew was to be believed, they really hit it off.

“Just glad to be going on a vacation,” Bridget tried to smile. “Well I best be going. I’ll actually make it to my hotel in Calais by dinner, it’ll be nice.” She walked to the door, “Thank you Mark for such a wonderful opportunity.” They exchanged a few more pleasantries, promises to keep in touch, and she left.

“A week in Calais,” Bridget thought to herself as she loaded her suitcase into the trunk, “Won't that be nice. I’m not going to let him ruin my vacation. I won’t think of him, and I certainly won’t cry over him.” And she didn’t, at least not until she reached her hotel, and pulled out her book to read. Only to find that it was the book Ben lent her, “Mystery Man” by Bateman.

“Damn you Benedict Cumberbatch,” she whispered through tears.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts or feed back on the story to this point would be great. So far the story developed more organically than I thought it would, hopefully the rest won't feel as structured.


	15. Present: Saturday Morning; Rome, Italy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch 14 was the last flashback....Time to get Ben and Bridge to solve their problems.

Bridget woke slowly, her head was killing her. She definitely drank more than she should have last night. Gingerly making her way to the shower, she heard her phone go off. “Not now Monica,” she muttered as she stepped into the hot spray.

After toweling off Bridget thought about what she was going to do about Ben. “Maybe I should just drop the issue, seems easier for both of us.” She put on a pair of tan capris with a emerald green peasant top. After wrangling her hair, she checked her phone.

_1 New Msg_   
_Ben - “Meet me at the Colosseum in an hour.”_

“Perhaps he will listen this time,” Bridget sighed and put on her shoes. It was a short walk to the Colosseum, since she had the time Bridget figured she could stop by that little cafe she remembered seeing on their way in yesterday morning and grab breakfast.

Heading to the lobby Bridget hear a familiar voice, “Wait up!” Tom’s shoes smacked against the tiles as he ran up to her. “Hey, I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he set a hand on Bridget’s arm to stop her.

“Yes.” Bridget checked her phone, she had 20 minutes to grab breakfast and get to the Colosseum. She started walking down the steps but Tom held her back.

“I mean it,” he gave her a serious look that bordered pity, “I’ve never seen Ben like this and I want you to know he would only act this way if he was really hurt.”

Taken aback by the comment, “So it’s my own fault that Ben was mean to me?” She didn’t mean for it to come out so defensively but Bridget had had enough with these men.

Tom ran a hand through his hair, “Yes, but no. Obviously Ben is upset, and he thinks you are to blame and perhaps in his own way you are, but,” Tom stressed by squeezing her arm, “I know he can get nasty.”

Bridget gave him a look.

“Look, I’m not saying you did anything. I saw how hurt you looked yesterday. I’m just trying to point out that Ben feels upset by something he blames you for.” Tom looked around, “Where is he anyway?”

Letting out a sigh, “Thank you for the heads up? Any way I’m just about to go meet him but I wanted to grab breakfast before I got there. I’m running late now.” Bridget took a step away from Tom.

“Really you’re meeting him?” Clearly not believing her, “Where?”

“The Colosseum,” She held out her phone, showing Tom the text message. “Now if you excuse me I’ve missed breakfast and I really needed it for this morning.”

Turning and walking down the stairs Bridget only stiffened when Tom called out to her, “Give him a chance. I don’t know what happened between you two but you could be good together.”

She hoped he was right, as she headed towards the Colosseum.

***

Ben looked at his watch, three minutes past. He shuffled his feet, unwilling to think about the sinking feeling running rampant through him. What if she really didn’t want to give him a chance, what if he blew it? She never responded to his message, what if she changed her number. “Enough with the ‘what if’ scenarios,” he murmured. “Damn it, Bridge where are you?” Now five minutes past, he was starting to get angry.

At seven minutes past, he saw a flame bobbing in the distance. This flame was attached to a lovely woman who was presently the cause of his sour disposition.

The lovely woman in question arrived at the Colosseum ten minutes late. “Nice you see you finally arrive,” Ben sneared. He opened his mouth to keep going, Bridget brought out the worse in him at times.

Bridget held up her hand to stop him, “What do you want Ben? I’d like to know what I did that hurt you so much. But know this, you have hurt me as well. If you don’t want to talk, fine; but I wont just stand here and let you insult me without at least telling me why.” Tears shimmered in her eyes.

Ben scrubbed his hand over his face, and ran his fingers through his hair, leaving it sticking out at odd ends. The errant curl flopped into his eyes, frustrated he tried to comb it back with his hand only to make things worse. He let out a frustrated sigh, that ended in wince when he tugged on his hair too hard. “Damn it Bridge!” Ben said under his breath.

Wanting to be angry with him but also seeing his troubles with his hair, Bridget reached out. Ben recoiled slightly, hurt and wariness shone through his beautiful blue green eyes. Letting out her own frustrated sigh, “Will you stop. I’m trying to help.” She took a small step toward him, and with the tentative patience one would have with a scared animal, she slowly smoothed his hair. Mindful of his scalp, she combed his errant curl back. When she dropped her hand, he looked slightly less rabid.

“Bridge, I…” Ben trailed off, unsure of what to make of the remarkable woman before him.

Bridget, unable to look at him any longer, turned towards the Colosseum, “Shall we go inside?” She didn't wait for his response, and started for the entrance. Bridget needed to get away from him for a moment, hurt and arousal were to very conflicting reactions to have in ones body, especially when caused by the same person.

Ben watched her turn, “Wait.” Bridget stopped but didn’t turn. “I’m sorry,” he wanted to add something more but he didn’t know what else to say. Ben had spent four years blaming Bridget for his hurt, now to find that he also hurt her was difficult to reconcile.

Without turning Bridget said, “Do you even know what you are apologizing for?”

“No, but I know I hurt you.”

Her shoulders sagged, “Come inside, we can find a quiet place to sit and talk.” With her back still to him, Bridget held her hand out at her side. She waited several long moments before a familiar warm hand grasped hers.

Ben glanced out of the corner of his eye, the tension she carried visibly dissipated once he held her hand. She looked straight ahead, her pert nose and delicate features set with the determination of one ready for battle. Looking ahead, Ben figured this was apropos and just as good as any place to put to rest their issues


	16. Saturday Morning; Rome, Italy

They walked hand in hand, in silence, for almost twenty minutes. Climbing to one of the highest points tourists could go, Bridget and Ben sat; neither speaking as they took in Rome unfolding beneath them.

Ben sat with Bridget’s small hand in his, she was rubbing her thumb along the side of his hand absentmindedly. He turned and looked at her; eyes closed and face turned to the sun. Her wild curly red hair fluttering softly around her shoulders, the green of her blouse only seemed brighter when contrasted by her fair skin and bright hair. A true Irish gem, he thought to himself, now to put our differences to rest.

Clearing his throat, he gave her hand a squeeze, “What happened in Paris?”

Reclaiming her hand, Bridget let out a harsh sigh, “What happened in Paris? At this point I don’t even know anymore. I spent years thinking I was blameless, now I see that’s not true.” She turned and looked at him directly, her jaw set with resolution.

“Let’s start with what we know, I’ll go first. I know we were good the night of the good bye party.” Ben wasn’t willing to give up on them, but he didn't want to become a proverbial carpet for her to tread on if they were done.

“Yes, that night we were good. But I think I speak for both of us that it was the morning after that we are having issues with,” Bridget looked back over the edge of the Colosseum. She wasn’t sure how to tell him that by standing her up, and then flirting with some woman more or less killed any confidence she had in herself.

Ben ran a hand through his hair, “Okay, so our last day on set.” He trailed off, exposing so much emotion was pushing him to the edge of a precipice he was afraid to go over.

Neither of them spoke for several moments; both of them lost in thought.

“Did that night not mean anything to you?” Ben spoke so softly, Bridget was sure she misunderstood him. She looked over at him, head bowed and he was fiddling with his hands.

“I beg your pardon?” Her voice cracked, the emotions of the past few days getting the best of her.

Ben looked over at her quickly. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and her hands were clenched into tight fists. Suddenly feeling both confused and clarified, “If it...that is, if you... .” Taking a deep breath he plunged over the edge, “Tell me, from your perspective what happened.” He closed his eyes, unwilling to face the truth of what he knew was ultimately a gross misunderstanding.

“Well, we had a great night. I mean a really great night," Bridget sighed slightly at the memory. "Then that morning, I woke up and wanted a change of clothes; so I wrote you a note and left it….” She trailed off when Ben looked at her shocked.

“What note? I never got a note.” Desperation creeped into his voice. Ben tried to think back to that morning, tried to go over every detail.

“I put it on the nightstand, the one closer to the window. It said that I was going to shower and that you should meet me for breakfast. When you didn’t show up, I took it to mean that, that night didn’t mean anything to you. You put the nail in the proverbial coffin when I saw you flirting with a shopkeeper.” Tears streamed unabashedly down her face. If he never got the note…, Bridget didn't know what to think.

Ben reached out and gently brushed her tears away. “Bridge, I’m sorry. When I woke up that morning and found you gone I panicked. I just rushed through a shower, and called Karon to have the whole room cleaned and packed. I left without even glancing at your side of the…” He was cut off by Bridget when she let out a sob. Ben gathered her into his arms and held her while they let go of years of hurt.

***

Together, Ben and Bridget sat atop of the Colosseum holding one another for almost an hour. They talked about the whole time in Paris; what happened, what didn’t happen. What they didn’t talk about was how they felt about each other while in Paris, and they certainly didn’t talk about how they felt about each other now.

Turning to ask him once and for all how he felt about her, Bridget shifted slightly and turned her face upwards. Ben’s hand cupped her cheek and brushed tears away. Her thoughts fled when she saw his face.

“Oh Ben, we are fools, aren’t we?”

Her laughter soothed him. Ben brought his face inches away from hers, “Fools, yes; but perhaps we can change that.” He brushed his lips against hers, waited for Bridget to relax, then he traced the seam of her lips with his tongue. When her eyes fluttered close, Ben kissed away the rest of her tears. He knew he had to slowly win her back, even if he wanted to show her fully how badly he wanted her in his life.

A warmth started to grow deep inside her as Ben feathered kisses over her face. Unwilling to remain passive any longer, Bridget cupped the nape of his neck and kissed him. At first it was almost chaste, just lips pressing against lips. His tongue darted out and he nipped her lower lip, slowly he drew it into his mouth and sucked on it lightly. Her mouth opened on a gasp of pleasure, Ben took the invitation and set to exploring her mouth with his tongue. Bridget angled her head to deepen the kiss; she inched closer to him, content just with kissing Ben but the desperation for something more was building.

It wasn’t until Bridget dropped her hand inadvertently on his already painful erection, did Ben realize how caught up in the kiss they were. Pulling back, and mustering his control, Ben took a deep breath. Bridget was leaning on him, her hand still resting where it dropped. He went to remove Bridget's hand with his hand when he noticed how badly it shook.

Clearing his throat, “Perhaps we should adjourn someplace less public.” When Bridget looked at him puzzled, he gestured to his lap. Ben let out a laugh when Bridget withdrew her hand as though it was on fire, and the look of embarrassment crossed her face.

Blushing, “Or, we could get lunch.” Before he could respond, her stomach growled, “I didn’t have breakfast.” Sheepishly, Bridget ducked her head.

Ben gently grasped her chin and directed her face back to his, “Lunch sounds great, Bridge darling.” He pecked a kiss to the tip of her nose and stood. Holding out his hand, Ben helped Bridget to her feet. With evenly matched strides they walked out of the Colosseum the same way they went in; lost in thought but hand in hand.

As they walked the Roman forum, Bridget reflected on the conversation they had. The misunderstandings and emotions. She liked Ben; she liked him then and she liked him now. While Bridget was glad to have cleared up the the Paris situation, it still didn’t lay to rest the years of pain that it caused; nor the callous things Ben said to her (and about her) in the past few days. Caught up in her thoughts, she never noticed Ben looking at her with adoration mixed with a plea for her to forgive him.

 


	17. Saturday Afternoon; Rome, Italy

Ben glanced at the hand he was holding. He caused quite a bit of damage to the already tenuous relationship this past week. They meandered about until they found a little bistro that overlooked a park. After taking their seats and placing their orders Ben fiddled with his fork, while Bridget swirled her water; the silence, for whatever reason, had just gotten incredibly awkward.

“So….”

“Why did you say those things about me?”

They spoke at the same time.

The Graham Norton Show, shit. Ben’s thoughts raced back to that day, back to the train wreck that he could not stop. He dropped his head to his hands and muttered, “I’m not sure where to begin.”

Annoyance crept into her voice, “Try the beginning.”

“The beginning,” Ben raised his head, fairly certain his hair was sticking out on end if the smirk Bridget wore was any indication. “Right, well in the beginning there was darkness and the lord said….” He trailed off when Bridget let out a soft laugh. “Can I tell you a story instead? I promise it will help.”

Bridget waved her hand dismissively, “We have time.”

Clearing his throat, “Yes, so about five years ago a man met a woman in the tube. They hit it off right away. This man, we will call him John and the woman Jane, John was working on a project that he knew Jane would be perfect for. He invited Jane, and they started working together, sharing things about themselves. John really liked Jane, Jane bought him a shirt, just because; but the best thing about Jane was that she sent a card to John’s mum without ever meeting her. John’s mum loved the card and was really excited about meeting Jane.

“Then, when John and Jane had a bad fight, John wondered if he was right about Jane. If she was the woman for him. While pondering morosely, John’s mum called. He told her that Jane wasn’t going to work out and there was little opportunity to fix the problem. John’s mum pleaded with him until he snapped and said that Jane was a “petulant child who wants nothing more than to play with cars”. John knew he shouldn’t have said that, especially about a woman he cared about, but his feelings were hurt.

“Fast forward, John spent years thinking Jane did him wrong and he blamed Jane. But he also defended her whenever his mum said, “if that woman didn’t hurt you so much, I’d have grandbabies by now”. So when John was being interviewed by and asked what it would be like to work with Jane, the “Fucking delight that would be” was in reference to the conversation he knew he would have to have with his mum.”

Ben finally had the courage to look up from his tea, only to swiftly look back down again. Bridget was silently crying, if he looked at her again he would never finish. Taking a deep breath he continued.

“John was pissed about the whole situation, he was hurt from Jane, mad as his mum, and really fucking pissed at himself because he couldn’t find a way to shut his trap and stop the hurtful words from coming out. His friend Mike even tried to talk to him before they all went Italy to work together. But it didn’t work, so John has spent the last few days mad at himself and Jane, but more at himself. Jane may have hurt him years ago, but he is the one being an ass.”

“How does the story end?” Her voice so soft, he could hardly hear it over the pounding in his ears.

Ben reached out and held her hand, “Depends on who you ask. John’s mum still wants Jane over for dinner and grandbabies, John wants Jane in his life, but I don’t know what Jane wants. I can’t end the story without know what Jane wants.” He brought her hand to his lips. “Bridge, I can’t fix the past and I can’t fix what stupid things I said, but I can fix the future.”

What ever Bridget was going to reply was interrupted by the arrival of lunch, she took her hand away but not before Ben noticed the little tremor in her hand.

***

They enjoyed a peaceful lunch, after Ben’s “story” Bridget wasn’t ready to delve back into the conversation about Paris. They chatted about the upcoming film and what they had been doing in the past four years. Oddly enough, even while avoiding talk of Paris and subsequent talk of the past few days, talking about what they had done over the years wasn’t that bad. Ben had done a lot of work, and Bridget confessed that while she watched every trailer she only saw a few of the things he was in. Her work on Top Gear wasn’t much to report on but her personal hobbies were worth reporting, for the past few years she had been volunteering at a vo-tech school with a mechanic program. She was able to fully commit to “Worth the Risk” because they were filming during the summer

They were walking around Rome, sightseeing and shopping; walking past a store selling postcards Ben noticed one for Santa Marinella, an hour away and on the coast.

Holding up a card with an idyllic view, “Want to go?” Ben asked, almost joking. It wasn’t until the words were out did he realize that it wouldn’t be such a bad idea for the two of them to get away and enjoy some time together.

Tilting her head to one side, considering, “Only an hour away. You know what, yes. Let’s rent a car and just go. I don’t even want to go back to the hotel.” Bridget let out a laugh, usually not impulsive this trip seemed perfect for them.

“Okay, car rental is about three blocks that way.” Ben smiled at her, “Split it?”

“Sure,” Looking around she noticed a little clothing store as they were walking, “I think that boutique sells bathing suits, let me grab one and we can be on our way.” Ben nodded and headed to a different store while Bridget shopped. Mercifully the boutique had more than just bathing suits, she bought a suit, sandals, a hat, a change of undergarments and a sundress.

Walking out of the shop with her bags she noticed Ben also had a large bag, she nodded towards his purchases, “Anything good?”

Ben shrugged and gave her a sly smile, “You have to wait and see.”

After reaching the rental, they had a little disagreement over who would drive. Ben ultimately won but it was because Bridget’s phone rang. Tom was looking for them, and wanted to make sure everything was okay.

“Yes, we are fine. Better than fine actually. We talked it out,” Bridget nodded at the phone to something Tom said as she loaded the bags into the boot of the car, “We are just going to Santa Marinella. Storm? Really? I’ll let Ben know, thanks.” She said goodbye to Tom and hung up.

“That was Tom, obviously, he said a storm was coming in and might hit the west coast. It’s supposed to be pretty bad in Rome, we might get caught in it if we go to Santa Marinella.” Bridget fiddled with the strap of her purse.

Ben frowned and checked his phone for weather reports, “It says that it will hit later tonight, we can still make the day trip. That is if you want to?” While understanding if she said no, he really hoped she said yes. Not that he was planning it, but much like Mrs. Bennet if they got caught in the storm they would have to stay. Neither he nor the scheming Mrs. Bennet could take credit for making it rain, but he wouldn’t argue the logic either.

“Sure,” Bridget looked at Ben, he wore an odd smile, “We can plan our departure around the weather.”

Beaming at her, “Sounds wonderful.” Yes, Ben thought, I might not be able to take credit for making it rain, but if it does rain then we will have to stay the night.

They climbed into the car, programed the GPS and left for Santa Marinella.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave kudos or comments!


	18. Saturday Afternoon; Santa Marinella, Italy

The rain waited until they got to the beach. Not even 15 minutes after laying out on the sand did the rain start. Not even a nice English rain, but a blinding downpour that caused them to seek shelter.

Ben wouldn’t say he was manipulative, but he would admit that the beach they decided to spend the afternoon on was directly attached to a little B&B that had an available room. Sadly it only had one room. Darn, Ben thought, as they raced inside and Bridget ran to the desk.

“I’m sorry we don’t have any rooms available, we let out our last one about twenty minutes ago,” the woman at the desk gave Bridget a smile.

Dropping her head, “Ugh, what are we going to do?” Turning to Ben she noticed he was smiling. Not just a don’t worry smile, but a smug “I won” sort of smile.

“What did you do?” Trepidation laced her words, but the gut feeling she had didn’t come close to assuage it.

“I checked the weather once we arrived, I knew we would get caught in it no matter what so I took the liberty of getting us a room and had our things brought in. The B&B has supplied us with toothbrushes and the basic toiletries, and when we want dinner we can phone the desk.” Ben led her to the stairs.

Looking over her shoulder Bridget gave the woman a smile who only winked at her in return, “Wait,” looking rapidly between Ben and the woman at the desk, “You said ‘room’, do you mean to say that we are sharing a room?”

Ben tried to look upset, “Yes, they only had one room left.”

Bridge narrowed her eyes at him, “You planned this didn’t you?”

“I can’t take credit for making it rain,” lifting a hand to his chest in mock defense.

Bridget marched up the stairs, “Alright Mrs. Bennet, but I can blame you for this.”

Ben didn’t even bother holding back a laugh as he followed her pert little behind up the stairs.

Reaching the landing Bridget took a deep breath, she had two options. She could stay mad at Ben and squander a night with him or she could accept that she really didn’t mind that he was a bit high handed with the situation and enjoy the evening with him. If there were two rooms the choice would have been different, as it was; the single room they were sharing opened up before her. It was small, a queen sized bed that hardly offered more room around it. Bridget noticed their bags next to the bed, towels were set on the small dresser.

Ben placed a hand on the small of Bridget’s back, ushering her inside. “If it is really that bad I can see what other places are near by.” Ben suddenly felt nervous about what he had done. Second guessing his relationship with Bridget. She was tense, just staring at the room. He couldn’t tell if she hated it, him, or the situation - possibly all three.

“No, it’s fine,” Bridget said to the room. She could hear the worry in Ben’s voice, Bridget knew she should let him know that she had decided to forgive him. Something held her back, perhaps it was the stress of the day. Only hours earlier did she find out that the past four years had been built on a misunderstanding, that their anger and hurt was due to neither of them speaking up. Now here she stood, in a small bedroom of an equally small B&B the man that hurt her yet she never stopped caring for stood behind her. It would take more than tonight to erase the pain that they caused one another, but tonight was a good start.

Turning, “Bathroom? I’d like to get out of these wet clothes.” Bridget tried to keep her voice neutral. She made her decision about enjoying the evening before the door opened, revealing how close they would be sleeping. As she asked her question, a flurry of emotions ran across Ben’s face - confusion, pain, worry, desperation, and something more.

Mutely Ben pointed at the little door adjacent to the dresser. Bridget walked over to her bags, picked them up, and walked to the bathroom. But before she closed the door, Bridget turned to Ben, “Thank you.” Not willing to give him a chance to respond she quickly stepped inside the bathroom. Closing the door behind her, she rested her head on the door. “Alright Bridge, tonight we repair years of damage and I’m not talking about my hair.” She peeled her wet clothing off, turned on the shower and let the hot water rush over her. Her skin tingled, she could still feel his hand on the small of her back. Bridget felt so conflicted, she wanted to rip his clothes off but at the same time she wanted him to ask for her forgiveness, just one last time, for the things he said in the past week. It wasn’t about what happened in Paris that bothered her, it was how he acted. How callous he was, both on television and in person.

After shaving, and moisturising, Bridget put on the sun dress she bought and the undergarments. She didn’t bother fussing with her hair, a little hair product and the steam from the bathroom did the rest of the work. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door to the bathroom open and stepped out. Ben wasn’t in the room, but had left a giant note on the bed. It read:

> _Bridge Darling, I went to take a shower in the shared bathroom down the hall. Meet me in the dining room by 8. Also, not sure what you packed but if you would like I have something for you (check the bag next to the bed). - Ben_

Bridget smiled, and walked over to the bag. The note was huge, he must had had poster board brought up to the room. There was no missing this note. Reaching into the bag she pulled out a stunning ruby red cocktail dress with matching shoes. Quickly she changed into the outfit and gave herself a once-over in the mirror. Bridget wasn’t even going to ask how he knew her size -  the dress and shoes fit perfectly. Noticing she had a few moments, she straightened the room. If tonight ended how she thought it would, it behooved them to have a tidy room. Just open the door and stumble in. Bridget gave her hair and makeup one last touch up and headed for the door.

 

 


	19. Saturday Evening; Santa Marinella, Italy

Ben looked at the table he had set for them; candles, dinner, champagne chilling. He wasn't a fan of champagne but that was all they had. As he wiped his palms on his trousers he realized how nervous he was.

Looking up he saw miles of legs disappearing into a ruby red cocktail dress. It looked just as good on her as he thought it would - thank god he got her size right. He let out the breath he was holding, and pulled back the chair for Bridget to sit. Before she did, she reached up and placed a kiss on his cheek, it was chaste - innocent even; but it was something Ben cherished as he knew they had a long road before them.

“You look lovely, Bridge,” his voice was thick with emotion, “I hope you like it.” Struggling to find the words he opened his mouth yet again to say something but Bridget stopped him.

“I love it, all of it.” She gave him a secret smile. Teasingly she added, “Even if you were a bit heavy handed with the orchestration of tonight’s festivities.”

Ben felt his ears burn, he should be admonished for his actions and at the very least feel guilty about what he did. Looking over at Bridget, dark red dress with flame red hair frame the delicate and fine bone features of her face. Tugging at his neck tie he cleared his throat, “Dinner?”

Bridget nodded, as a woman brought out antipasto, she enjoyed the sight of Ben just being Ben. Totally at ease in this little B&B, his black trousers and simple white button down were accented by the muted green tie he wore. She could tell the shirt was a bit older, it was tight in the shoulder and stretched in the chest. Happily it afforded her a peek at the sculpted figure that lay beneath his shirt.

They ate and talked their way through the antipasto and risotto. Conversation was kept light, with the food. They talked of the film, cars, and past projects. As the roast lamb with asparagus came out the tenor in the room changed. This main course could decide how the rest of the evening went.

“Where do we go from here?” Bridget asked, fork of lamb hovering above her plate.

Ben looked down at this plate, poked the asparagus around. Hedging, “What do you mean?” He knew what she meant, he wondered the same. Where do they go, the past was past but the future was yet to be decided.

Looking up, squaring his shoulders, “Depends on where you want to go?” He ripped enough of a bandaid off earlier today at the cafe, Ben wanted Bridget to spell it out for him. Tell him exactly what she wanted from him and for them.

She took a bite, while chewing she thought. How to answer, where do I want to go? Bridget knew she wanted a future with him, inexplicably she wanted him in her life. After she finished her bite of food, she took a gulp of champagne. Fortification for the confession that could change everything.

“You,” Bridget said, “I don’t care where I go but I want to go with you.” Quickly looking down at her plate, she fiddled with her napkin in her lap.

Ben felt a rush, exhilarated by the confession. He reached out, gently grasped her chin and lifted it to meet her gaze. “You still want to give me a chance, after everything we went through?” Please say yes, he fervently wished.

Bridget cocked her head to the side, considering, “Yes. Despite all that has happened in the past few weeks, and today, I still want to give you a chance. Ben, we had the possibility to have a wonderful relationship five years ago. We both blew it, neither of us are solely to blame. We have some bumps ahead of us, both on the professional scale - you get to tell the world why you said what you said; and on the personal side. However, we have enough of a foundation to move forward. Baby steps, I’m not saying we are getting a shared flat next week, but dating could work.”

Bridget fell silent, focusing on eating her food before it got too cold; Ben too, was silent. They ate in silence for several moments. By now they finished the first bottle of champagne and had opened the second. Ben was starting to feel fuzzy, he imagined that Bridget was feeling the same.

“So just like that we are dating?” Ben asked, his eyes focused on her mouth. Bridget’s tongue flicked out to lap up a spot of sauce.

Bridget looked up suddening, “I...guess so. If you want to that is, if you think this is a good idea.” She paused, then followed quickly, “Well what are your thoughts? You know mine, let’s hear yours.” Bridget sat back, pushing her empty plate away from her, she picked up her flute and sipped her champagne.

Ben let out a laugh, it was good she didn’t let him off the hook so easily. He needed a woman in his life who could keep him on his toes. “I agree that we have bumps ahead, and that neither of us could take complete blame. That being said, I don’t think we would have done well together five years ago. Neither of us were ready for what the other wanted, even if it was the same thing. Yes I do have some explaining to do, then again so do you. Why you were so quick to defend me, when I was so quick to tear you down. Even if we both know why, the public will want a better explanation than “PR nightmare avoidance 101”.

Ben pushed his plate aside, and reached out for Bridget’s hand, “Dating is good, I’ll confess I’m still working on what that means for people like us but I’m willing to take a shot.”

Bridget rubbed her thumb along his hand, “You mean we can’t just go to the drive in and make out?” She let out a laugh, “I guess you’re right, but what do you mean you’re working it out? Haven’t you dated since Paris?”

Shaking his head, “Not with any degree of seriousness. It was one or two nights here and there. A night to the theater, and dinner a few days later. I’ve mastered the short term dating. Keeping it quiet, but the press finds out and one of us panics. We are already in the public focus, I wouldn’t even know how to keep this personal and private.”

Slightly shocked at his admission, “Nothing serious since Paris. Are you considering the few weeks we were in Paris “serious”?”

“No, yes, sort of. I had intentions on making it serious and to that end was thinking forward, not just one or two nights together.” Ben felt nervous. It must have shown in his face because Bridget reached up and cupped his cheek.

“Okay, then yes Paris was serious. So we are dating, seriously,” Bridget waggled her eyebrows at Ben, “then as my boyfriend, you should clear us of dinner and request dessert.”

“Yes, my dear.” As if she was listening at the door, and Ben really hopped she wasn’t, the woman who was serving them came forward to collect their plates. “My girlfriend would like some dessert, madame.” Ben gave Bridget a smile.

 


	20. Saturday Evening; Santa Marinella, Italy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All. Smut.

Dessert was a chocolate mousse. They shared the dish, taking turns feeding eachother. By now the champagne was in full effect, smiles and laughter flowed easily between the two of them. Bridget slipped off her one of her heels, and rubbed her foot along Ben’s calf; she wasn’t sure what his plans for the evening were but she intended to inform him of her. 

Ben raised the spoon to Bridget’s mouth, but a slow stroke of her foot up his leg caused him to falter and he missed slightly. A small smudge of mousse was on her cheek. After watching her lick the spoon clean, Ben shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could sit down in the dining room with the erection he was sporting. Ben reached out and with a finger swiped the mousse off Bridget’s face, he went to pull his hand back but Bridget stopped him. She guided his finger to her mouth, and slowly took it deep inside. Her tongue ran up and down his finger as she sucked on it.

He let out a moan, unable to hold it back. All the while Bridget never broke eye contact, not when she swirled her tongue on the tip of his finger or when she sucked him deep into her mouth, almost to the third knuckle. 

“Bridge…” Ben breathed out. 

She released his finger with a slight pop, and gave him a wicked smile, “Can I help you with anything?” 

Taking a quick glance around the room he noted they were alone, and the doors were closed. The owner was smart, she saw was what happening between the two of them. Standing on shaky legs, he felt like he did the first time he kissed a girl. Round one might be a quick one, he thought ruefully, good thing the night is long. 

He took her hand and let her to the wing back chair, it had a wide seat; wide enough for say a man to sit and a woman to straddle? He kissed her, tongues dueling for supremacy while hands fought with fastenings. Ben heard a tearing sound, and then the sound of buttons scattering, he gave a laugh as Bridget greedily shoved his shirt halves aside and ran her hands up and down his chest. He took a step back to push her dress down, she stood before him in a deep green confection of lace, a red puddle of fabric lay at her feet. 

Bridget went to kick off her heels, but Ben stopped her. His voice was husky when he said, “Leave them”. Silently she reached for his belt, and the fastening on his trousers. Ben’s hand reached forward, he traced the edging of the lace on her breast; first one then the other. When his pants and trousers pooled at his feet, he bent to retrieve a condom, he knelt before her and kissed every bit of skin he revealed when he slowly drew her panties down. He helped her out of them, making sure she stayed in her heels, until she stood before him with naught but her bra and heels on. 

Ben pressed a kiss to the inside of one leg, right at the juncture of her thighs, and again to the other leg. Bridget had gotten waxed only a few days before Italy, so there was nothing in the way when Ben breathed a kiss on her. His fingers lightly traced little patterns up her legs till one traced the seam of her lips. She swayed slightly, and swore she heard Ben laugh as he gripped her hip with one hand and parted her folds with the other. 

All thought left her when his tongue flicked the sensitive nub at her apex. His tongue teased her as his fingers lightly traced back and forth, pushing slightly where she needed him. Without warning he pushed a finger deep inside her, she clung to his head as he laved her. A second and third finger joined the first as he fucked her with his fingers. She felt the familiar tug, deep inside her as she neared the precipice. Bridget went tumbling over the edge when his tongue replaced his fingers. She cried out his name, clinging to his head as his mouth sucked and licked every shudder out of her. Her legs started to buckle when Ben slowly stood, and held her close. 

He placed a kiss on her nose and led her to the chair. When he sat down, at first she was confused, but when she saw his erection straining she could guess what he intended. Placing one knee on the chair then the other, Bridget slowly sank down on Ben. Both of them letting out a deep moan. When he was in to the hilt, she moved forward; thrusting her breasts in his face. Bridget needed to feel his hands and tongue on her again. 

As she rode him, Ben drew a lace clad nipple into his mouth, the other nipple was appropriately teased with his forefinger and thumb. He could feel the pressure building, it was too soon but he couldn’t hold back. His hand dropped to her hip, and he met her thrust for thrust, their motions became frenzied. Ben could tell she was close but he wanted to feel her clench around him when he came. He reached down in between them and rubbed the sensitive nub that would send her over the edge yet again.

When she came, Bridget threw her head back on a scream. She didn’t even try to muffle it. Not even moments later Ben thrust deep inside her and called out his own release. 

They rested their, Ben still deep inside of Bridget; the residual shudders still subsiding. Slowly Ben brought his hands up to Bridget’s face and tenderly kissed her, but the look in his eyes was anything but tender; the stormy green blue was a riot of passion and emotion. As Bridget climbed off of Ben, and stood on shaky legs, she looked around the room. 

“Perhaps we should take this upstairs?” Suddenly feeling shy, she reached for her dress and panties. 

Ben stood and stilled her with his hand, “You okay?” 

As she nodded, Bridget took in the sight before her. Benedict naked. His muscular chest tapered to narrow hips, his legs were long and muscular as well; but his height created a lean, athletic appearance. The light dusting of hair on his chest and legs, was hardly visible in the soft lighting of the B&B. While his stance was casual, it was also preditorial. The thin line of hair trailing down to his erection, drew Bridget’s eye. Still, after all these years, she was amazed by his body. His cock jutted forward proudly; as if calling her, Bridget walked towards Ben. She trailed her nails lightly over his chest and upper thighs, creating little patterns that with each past brought her hands closer to their goal. 

Gently she scraped her nail up the inside of his leg, every so slightly brushing against his sac. Ben let out a hiss, his hands fisted at his side. He knew turnabout was fair play, in fact he was hoping he wasn’t wrong about her intentions. Ben opened his eyes and saw Bridget kneeling before him, “Oh Bridge.” He was cut off when she started massaging his sac, and her tongue flicked lightly at the tip of his weeping cock. His hips thrusted forward, desperate to feel her mouth around him, but she held him still with a hand.

“Oh no, you aren’t getting off that easily.” A seductive tone, Ben never heard Bridget use, gave him pause. He looked down to see her lap up the pre-cum glistening on the head of his cock, then she blew on the tip lightly. Ben let out a groan, her hand was still rubbing and rolling his sac, slowly increasing pressure and speed. Nothing uncomfortable, but enough to drive him insane. 

Bridget started to stroke Ben with her free hand, while her mouth lowered to replace the hand massaging him. She placed two open mouth kisses on his sac before he let out a deep moan, his hands rose to either side of her face and drew her up to his cock. 

“Please, for the love of god woman, please.” Pleadingly Ben whimpered. He nudged her lips with the tip of his cock. Without warning, Bridget opened her mouth and took him in as far as she could. Ben gasped, his hands flexing on the side of her head. He wanted to hold her and fuck her mouth, but he also just wanted to feel her pace him. Draw it out. Until he felt her moan; with his cock deep in her mouth, the vibrations of her moan was more than he could handle. With a firm yet gentle grip, Ben grasped her head, threaded his fingers through her hair, and started to thrust. 

Bridget let out another moan, Ben glanced down quickly to see that only one of her hands was gripping his hip; the other was nestled between her legs. Faster and harder he thrusted, mindful of the fact it was indeed her mouth he was fucking. He could tell he was getting close, Ben tried to pull back, but Bridget didn’t let go. With one last thrust he came. His hands loosened their grip, and he could feel her throat working to swallow. He pulled her head off of him, she released him with a pop. Looking down he could tell she wasn’t quite done yet, her eyes were closed and she let out a little moan of frustration as her hand worked fervently. 

Ben lowered himself to his knees, reached for the front clasp of her bra and spread the halves wide. He teased her nipples with his fingers, slowly applying pressure to the turgid peaks. Lowering his mouth to one of the ripe buds, he drew it into his mouth. Swirling his tongue around one nipple then giving it a little nip; he repeated the process, alternating between breasts. He felt her tense, right as he knew she was going to come, he simultaneously gave her nipples a playful pinch. Her head was thrown back as she let out a moan, she shuddered; the waves of her release causing her to curl in on herself. 

Scooping her up, Ben carried Bridget to their room. He tucked her in and quickly ran back downstairs to collect their clothing. Thankfully no one was up and about, it wouldn’t do well for him to be seen running around a B&B naked. He grabbed their things, tidied the dining room and quickly returned upstairs. 

He opened the door to see Bridget asleep in the bed, her red hair a fiery halo about her head. Dumping their things, and flicking the lock, Ben climbed into bed and snuggled in next to Bridget. He knew something remarkable happened between the two of them that night, but whatever it was, it would wait till morning. Ben’s last thought before sleep took him, was that having Bridget sleeping next to him was something he would never grow tired of.

**Author's Note:**

> Two thoughts and an after thought  
> 1) Should I have ended it differently - perhaps something more?  
> 2) Apparently I can't write smut about married men.... so that 's done.
> 
> ....
> 
> Doctor Strange; first he was, then he wasn't, now he is.... toss it.


End file.
